SHOT! (The Dream That Came True)

PROLOGUE

They say dreams come true. But I still maintain that I’ve got some dreams I don’t want to see come true. I guess it’s too late for that now. It’s been seven years after I started having these mysterious mind troubling dreams of always traveling back in time, and it’s now manifesting bit by bit. Some have called me a time traveler, and have prevented their females from becoming another time traveler’s wife. Lol. Well, good for them.

That being said, I want to fill the world in - on the details that led to such tragic end which caused the sun to shade tears by midday. He was only an acquaintance I made in the process of the fulfillment of my seven-year-old dream. I couldn’t have known it was all programmed.

I made the first move in innocence. He reciprocated indifferently. We hooked up and became pals. From pals to mates. From mates to dogs. And from dogs to a little more like brothers until the day it all ended. That happy day of sadness. The day we got ambushed. The day their guns blazed and he got SHOT!!!

PHASE 1

Meeting with Jesus has been the best thing that ever happened to me. Going to church afforded me the opportunity to hang around the best kinds of people in the world. The preachers' sermons built and shaped my attitude. Not to mention the abundant grace of God that made everything easy; especially abandoning my old ways and embracing a new life.

But then, even with all those in place, there were things I had to deal with on a personal note. The bible speaks of a young boy named Joseph, who had a dream which delayed for thirteen years amidst several trials and temptations before coming to fulfillment. It was a good dream. Folks would give anything to make such dream a reality; unlike mine, which I would have given anything to keep it from seeing the light of day. However, it came to pass. I can’t say for sure, though. I just hope I’m right.


Nine years back, I was fresh out of high school into an eastern Nigerian polytechnic, doing my thing and living my teenage dream life. Smoking weed was the order of the day. Chasing girls was next on the list. The engineering course I opted to study was the least of my priorities. I was always out of class. And I barely wrote a quiz for myself except in worst case scenarios. Even at that, I made sure to sort the lecturers out to secure good grades. I guess it is true what they say; money talks, bullshit stops! Oh! Did I mention that money wasn't a problem? Of cause, it wasn't!

There was a lot to be blown on bribing of lecturers, whores, weed, etc. It lasted for two whole years and was so fun; except that the girls’ thing didn’t really play out as hoped. However, it was still fun until a few weeks to rounding up my national diploma program. That was when it started; I mean the dream. That was when the dream started. Better still; that was when the “dreams” restarted.

The nights were no longer a time to find solace from the harshness of the days’ hassles. Each time I closed my eyes, I traveled back in time to the days when I was fresh out of high school. It endured all through the period my one-year industrial training. Something wasn't right. I knew for sure! But I couldn’t tell what it was; neither could anyone around me. The mysterious dream endured for so long. And I hoped things would go back to normal when I got back to school for my HND program which was supposed to be the following year.

Amazingly, money developed wings and flew into thin air when that time came, and I was helplessly stuck at home, having the crazy dream every single night! What did I ever do to invite such penalty? Was it my sins? Could the idols my forefathers worshiped have risen to hunt me down for deserting them? Or were the monsters I had created rising up against me to thwart my destiny? Damn it!

To be continued.

PHASE 2

In the process of that time, I found my way to Jesus and became a certified church boy who’s now better known as Jezuzboi©; a.k.a “The Church Writer©. I even recorded a couple of tracks to honor the Lord for my salvation.

I was thought how to get my problems solved. I got rid of all the monsters I had created; an act that was never actually possible humanly speaking. Again, it is true what the bible says; WITH GOD, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. But then, the said dream refused to go away. It was persistent, and I couldn’t understand how it managed to elude termination by the prayers and sacrifices I had offered to the higher beings. It got me miserable, and I wrote a couple of poems to express the misery I lived in by reason of that dream; one of them being this one titled; PRAY?

On my bed did I LAY,
When the dark hours had ended the DAY,
Which had been all work without PLAY,
So on getting home, I hit my bed without DELAY.

Closed eyes, still body, yet, still breathing the Lord's AIR.
Transported was my soul to realms far AWAY.
Fed was my spirit with secrets & mysteries so hard to SAY.
Acquired did I, knowledge that is so RARE.

Then my soul got troubled, & I said to revelation; this is not FAIR.
My complaints seemed unheard, so I asked in my heart; does no one CARE?
And it dawned on me that every man goes his own WAY.
Alone am I in the world. Will I not go ASTRAY?

My actions go unsupervised, I hope I don't end up a PREY.
What price am I to PAY,
To get rid of this miserable depression and DELAY?
Maybe I need to PRAY.

Yes, I will. In the Lord's presence shall I STAY.
I shall familiarize my voice with the Lord's EAR,
Same way porters familiarize their hands with CLAY.
And the product of that effort shall I watch to see EVERYDAY.

My testimony will I not hold back. I'll surely SHARE.
Stick around. Soon, all these shall be CLEAR.

Resolving to a final resort of more prayers as suggested by the above poem, I hoped the dream would stop in the process of time. But it didn’t. As a matter of fact, there were no signs suggesting an expiration to that dream. Instead, it continued until I had it up to my neck and threw in the towel. I retired from seven years of relentless but wasted effort of finding a suitable connotation or an end to the dream, and dreadfully awaited the aftermath. Or, should I say; the fulfillment of that abstract dream.

It wasn’t long from the time I gave up on unraveling the dream to the time the mystery behind the dream began to unravel itself. After being disqualified and disallowed to secure a conditional direct entry admission into a southern Nigerian university because of the low grades I had bagged home from the eastern Nigerian polytechnic I attended, I decided to quit trying to become an engineer, and rather choose a field of study that had to do with my passion in life. Perhaps, science and engineering weren't really my thing. Little wonder I bagged home low grades, even with all the sortings.

I discovered myself to be a writer, a singer, a sweet melody composer, actor, orator, and poet. And also imaginative, creative, contemplative, and artistic. Upon that discovery, I resolved to change my field of study to one more relative; perhaps something in the faculty of arts.

But there was no way I could pull through without having to acquire art O’level result that would qualify me for admission into the faculty of arts. My present O’level result was that of science. So I enrolled for internal O'level again after nine years from my first and only attempt. I, however, regretted enrolling for an internal O'level exam because it required me to adorn myself with high school uniforms once again and become subject to a principal; not to mention having to mingle with the present generation of high school kids of the time; one generation away from mine.

I should have gone for the external instead. Then again, seeing that I had no choice, and for the sake of not wasting the N15,000 I used to enroll for the examination, especially in the Buhari administration when money is hard to come by, I gave in, got some new school clothes and went to the school to partake in the exams. The said school was on the outskirts of town, miles and miles away from my bubbling city of residence. 

It gladdened my heart somewhat that I was going to be changing location for a little time after a long while of running the cycle of always waking up in the morning to hit the studio, from the studio to the cinema, from the cinema to the library, from the library to the rehearsal ground, from the rehearsal ground to my shelf back at home, and from my shelf to my family-sized bed where I retire for the day; all these amidst random online and offline hustles.

What I lacked knowledge of, was what awaited me in that rural community where the school was located. Indeed, when a child begins to think that he is wiser than his father, what his father spent a lifetime running away from, kills him in his sleep.

To be continued.

PHASE 3

Upon arrival, the first images that caught my attention were the tiny shadows of teenage boys and girls all set to sit for the first paper. I felt very embarrassed and wished the exams would be over in a blink of an eye. After keeping to myself long enough, I decided to make some inquiries about certain things in the school. And the only ones who could help out with that information were the last sets of people I wanted to have a word with. Being short of choices, I had to proceed with it - if I wanted to sit for that examination.

The little boys I made inquiries with directed me to the principal of the school who bombarded me with hostile rebukes only suitable for O’level students. Of course, he had the right to speak to me in that manner. After all, I was in school clothes, in his school, ready to sit for the O’level exams which he superintended over. I tried not to let his harsh words get to me. It will only last for a month; I said in my heart. 

So, I left his office after a brief talk with him and met a crowd of students clustering in the fields and halls. Immediately, an image popped up in my mind. It was the image of the first time I sat for O’level exams nine years back, accompanied by the feeling I had same nine years back when I was about to be fresh out of high school. 

But on looking much closer, I realized it was much more than just images and feelings from nine years back. It was actually the journey; my dream of always traveling back in time to the days when I was fresh out of high school. It was the fulfillment of my seven-year-old mysterious dream; the manifestation thereof. Wow! I couldn’t believe the thought when it crossed my mind. This is the dream I had been having constantly for the past seven years; of me in high school again, doing high school things. Dreams do come true indeed!

All the while, I thought the dream foretold of evil to come. Or perhaps; a bad omen that had no remedy whatsoever! It turned out to be the direction towards the paths of my destiny. I was glad, and I smiled in relief. To the best of my understanding, a higher force had all the while been reaching out to me to hint me to go back to high school and get an arts O’level result that would qualify me to study WRITING/ACTING instead of continuing with ENGINEERING which wasn’t my thing.

However, I still had a minor problem to face while the exams lasted. I had to put up with the little folks from the generation after mine, and thoughts of that assumed a troubling dimension in my mind. But the joy of finally unraveling my mysterious dream made me ready to endure whatever humiliation and embarrassment came along the line.

I matched forth majestically, heading to the hall to assume a comfortable position and await the first paper which was set to commence in about an hour. On my way to the hall, a guy walked past me. His mafia walking steps caught my attention big time! I turned to investigate and analyze him to the full.

My eyes first met his well-carved beards, and that made me miss mine which I had shaved upon being informed that students in that level will be dismissed from the exams if they came without shaving off their beards. Apparently, this guy wasn’t from the next generation. He was certainly from mine. And he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the beard shaving thing. Hehehe! Baddest! 

Finally, I was glad to have found someone in my class to associate with - for as long as the exams lasted. I then uttered words of compliments to him regarding his beards, which he well responded to. Afterward, he engaged in further chit-chats with me. I didn’t ask his name, or where he came from, or his reasons for enrolling for O’level again. I was simply glad to have found a soothing acquaintance for myself.

We got to know each other and became good acquaintances. But it turned out I hadn’t just found myself an acquaintance. We graduated from being just acquaintances to becoming pals. And from pals to mates. And from mates to dogs. And from dogs to a little more like brothers until the day it all ended. That happy day of sadness. The day we got ambushed. The day their guns blazed and he got SHOT! Again I say; I've got some dreams I don't want to see come true. But what can I really do to stop them from coming true?

To be continued.

PHASE 4

I'll spare you the details of the talks that initiated our supposed relationship and skip to the part where he introduced me to some fellows he had gotten acquainted with during that time. Those fellows housed me until the exams were over. I had planned to be coming for the exams from the city every day until I was able to secure accommodation for myself in that rural community. But considering the money that would go on random transportation, I opted to reside with those fellows and save some cash since the opportunity had presented itself.

My new-found bearded acquaintance had offered me his place to stay in another bubbling city closer to the school than mine. In addition, he had a car he drove to the school every exam day. So, if I agreed to his offer, I would have a comfortable apartment to stay and a car to move me around whenever. But I refused because I perceived the guy to be a rugged material that might lead me back to my old ways if I consented.

I bailed out with some flimsy excuses and moved in with those fellows he introduced me to, who resided right inside the school premises; seven of them in addition to me, making us eight in a small 12 by 12 single room. Hahaha. No be small American wonder oo! I was well received and welcomed by those guys. I always have such favor.

After our exams on the day I moved in with them, I changed up and hung out a little bit with my bearded acquaintance before he left for the city via his car. I then reluctantly went back to the room, expecting the greatest boredom I had ever experienced. What could those fellows actually do to keep me going? They were still strangers to me, and I doubted there was ever anything those guys could do to make my stay with them a hell of fun!

I just went home to put up with the boredom. The only good thing was that they were all my peers. Apparently, I wasn't the only one writing O'level exams for the second time. As a matter of fact, it turned out that 50% of the candidates were partaking in the exams again for the second, third, fourth, and even fifth time. It's amazing how a particular subject can keep subjecting a big boy/girl to every year writing of WAEC. I prayed they made it that time.

My case was even better because I was writing to switch from being a science student to an art student. I prayed I made it too. However, like I said; I went back to the room, prepared to put up with the boredom because I doubted they could offer anything more than dull moments. But my doubts were cleared upon reaching the apartment to join them. It was about after 8pm at this time.

After that day's paper, we had contributed N200 each to prepare dinner for ourselves. Guess what? I went back to meet a bucket filled with 20 pounds of very hot eba, and a pot full of hotter egusi soup. One of the guys asked me indifferently the moment his eyes met me; "oboy, food don ready o! You go chop?" I affirmed with a nod and wry smile. And before I could say Jack, the rest of the guys flooded out from the room to the veranda when the cook announced that food was ready. I was right on time!!!

They washed their hands in a hurry and made to consume the food hastily. But one guy objected and demanded that grace be said before eating. Another guy immediately said an awful grace; the worst I've ever heard. He simply said; PLUS GOD MINORS SATAN, to which everyone echoed AMEN! Then the battle to consume the meal began, the same way hungry lions prey on their catch; especially in cases where the catch is too little to satisfy the lions involved.

The eba was in one bucket, and the soup was in one pot. You can imagine seven hungry guys battling to satisfy their insatiable appetites from the same source. If care is not taken, someone may choke in an effort to speedily consume enough to satisfy himself. Better still, may have his esophagus burnt by the 90 degrees Celsius hot eba!

One of the guys asked me; "oboy, you dey stand dey look?" Then I immediately rolled up my sleeves and joined the tussle. The eba was so hot! Same as the soup. But if I were to put that into consideration, I'd miss out on dinner for that day and would have to sleep hungry that night. So I did what I had to do. After all, I no be Aje-butter pikin! I battled alongside them for the food, and within two minutes, the whole food was finished! Chei!

If one woman births those boys and doesn't die during labor, she'll definitely die of their appetite! After the meal, some of our palms turned red from the heat of the eba and soup. One of them then suggested that we go to the stream and cool off. "What? I exclaimed! "You mean there is a stream here?" I asked. Of course! They replied. Then I leaped for joy! I hadn't been to a stream in ages, and would so love to visit one. So I quickly consented and got ready to join them. Then a thought crossed my mind and I asked; "will the mermaids tolerate us coming to disturb them by this time of the night?" They laughed and dismissed that idea with waves of the hand, and we matched at once to the stream.

It was a different dimension of fun down in that stream. Actually, there were no females there because it was late. But there were other guys there already troubling the water. I learned the girls do come around as frequently as the guys do. In fact, they could show up while we were bathing. So it was advisable to have our boxers on in case that happened. The guys turned a deaf ear to that advice and stripped themselves naked! As the good Lord would have it, no females showed up for the over 30 minutes we spent there.

After the bath, the guys resolved to walk home naked since there were no towels to dry their bodies, and they wouldn't put on their clothes on wet bodies. Moving just a little distance away from the stream, we saw clustering shadows approaching. We wondered what they were and almost got frightened. On getting a little closer, we heard tiny melodious voices chatting and laughing and telling moonlight tales. You're not going to believe this, but those clustering shadows with melodious voices were actually humans! As a matter of fact, they were girls on their way to the same stream, and they had to walk past us to get there.

But these guys were still naked, walking majestically towards the girls with manhoods of different sizes and colors, flinging and swinging themselves like masquerade bells. Then I alerted them saying; "girls dey come oh. Una no go wear cloth?" one of them replied saying; "for wetin? We no dey wear any cloth! Na like this we go waka pass them. No be so?" The rest of them echoed a reply saying; "Yes nah!" and I exclaimed; "What? Una no fit try am!" Then one of the guys said to me; "Watch and see!"

To be continued.

PHASE 5

I’m pretty sure the girls’ minds interpreted to them correctly what the flinging and swinging bell-like images the moonlight revealed to them were. But they proved to be brave and still matched forth towards us, though their talks and laughter had abated a little. It wasn’t until the guys started chanting a certain Ibibio song did the girls see things in a different light which caused their courage to fail completely. The Ibibio song they chanted is translated thus;

HOLD BACK YOUR MANHOOD SO THAT YOU DON'T END UP KILLING HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS (2X)
BECAUSE THE MOST HIGH GOD DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS GET KILLED IN THAT MANNER (2X)

They kept repeating that song, and with much intensity each time as we energetically and enthusiastically closed up the gap between us and the girls. That was when it dawned on the girls that indeed; these bobos are not well. They took to their heels immediately back to where they came from in fear of what these guys might be lured to unleash on them. Haha. I thought they normally say that what a man can do, a woman can do better. They should have stuck around to do this one better nah. Lolz. The guys then let out a supposed cheer of victory in celebration of their supposed conquest, matching alongside each other like the Biafra soldiers of blessed memory.

As we continued to walk home, we dispersed from each other at different junctions leading to our different homes. I and the guys I lived with also dispersed on getting to the school gate after bidding the ones that still had to walk some more goodbye, promising to make the next day more fun filled than the present day.

We went home, chatted about virtually everything; ranging from black and white spirituality to ambitions and aspirations, the past, the present, the future, and of course; the girls! You see, when you find yourself in a secluded remote and rural area as such where not even the leaves can bear witness to your originality, you tend to blend in a little for the sake of adventure.

But I’ve always been a spectator. I’d rather watch things happen than make them happen except motivated by a monetary reward to act otherwise. In this case, no monetary reward whatsoever was attached to that seeming adventure. So I just followed along and watched these guys turn the whole place upside down. You know nah; I have to watch well so I can write well about it. That’s exactly what I’m doing now. Lolz.

It was dawn in a hurry, and we found our way to the stream to freshen up and get ready for the day’s paper. We then made our way to the hall and awaited the examiners to come lead us on. I met my bearded acquaintance again. We shook hands and he asked; how far nah? To which I replied; “no bad ooh.” But when I also asked; “you nkor? How far?” He replied saying; “NO JOY!” Haha. This guy must be a baaaaaadt guy! For that reason, I started referring to him as baddest! Little did I know….

To be continued… 

PHASE 6

Well, that aside for now. Let’s face the exam that was at hand at that moment. The examiners arrived, set everything up and the exams began. As normal Nigerian students, some people started bringing out prohibited materials and speedily transferred answers from various sources to their answer sheets. Some received answers via phone. Some came in with textbooks from which they copied the answers.

Some came with papers that contained answers they had documented on getting them from online sources some moments to the exams. And the rest came in with nothing without having a clue as to what to write down on their answer sheets. It is catastrophic to be a dullard who cannot cheat! I’m not licensing anyone to resort to cheating and remain a dullard ooh! Hehehe! If you chose to, you are on your own!

It was then time to commence, and one of the examiners instructed with a loud voice saying; START! At that very moment, the guys started to bring out their stuff to transfer answers to their answer sheets. Even the girls surprised me. Indeed, what a man can do, a woman can do much much much better! You could see clueless students clustering around a supposed savior to copy from him or her. Some were caught by the examiners. Some weren’t. But then, midway into the exams, a shocking development popped up.

The head examiner rose and called to the attention of all the students in the hall, asking them to contribute a certain amount of money and be provided with answers. That shocking development brightened the countenances of all students, as they all complied and had reasons to smile at the end of the exams. It was indeed a wonderful paper. We all wrote well; even those who were caught cheating. Anyone who doesn’t have an “A” in that paper should just go back to the village and embrace farm work!

I thought that only one examiner could come up with a pleasurable shocking development. But it turned out it was a common language among the examiners from North, South, East and West, as all who came on subsequent exam days to invigilate us all stood up at some point to call the attention of the candidates and ask them to contribute a certain amount of money and be provided with answers.

So, every single day of exams went pretty well; except for one or two occasions when a particular witch was sent to invigilate us. That was the day we wrote English. A lot of people mourned after the paper. They had gotten so used to contributing money and being provided with answers. They never considered the possibility of such unforeseen circumstance which popped up on the day of an important paper like English.

Many candidates sure failed that paper. But not me nah.. haba? How can a writer fail an English exam? As a matter of fact, I became a savior to as many who sat around me. Haha. I know what you must be thinking now. Don’t worry. You and I will talk about that on a personal note later on. Let’s continue with the story.

While many were lamenting and cursing the witch of an invigilator, I and the few around me were sure having a good time. A number of other guys and girls did well because we were not the only ones smiling. Apparently, there were other English students there. But the non-English students didn’t find anything funny; even the best of AY Live comedy series!

That’s what you get when a witch invigilates an exam you were hoping to cheat and pass. I looked carefully to determine why this particular woman didn’t do like the other examiners and discovered that so far, she was only the only examiner that drove a good car. Lolz. Until then, I didn’t know that witchcraft could pay that much. Make the other examiners kukuma follow go join witchcraft nah… lolz ooh…!

To be continued…

PHASE 7

So, we all went to the stream to have our bath. That was the highest fun in that community. Or should I say; the highest fun for some people... Because there were other people who were all the while bursting bubbles like “kilode?” One of the guys I shared the room with - met one Port Harcourt small girl who was proving to have more foresight than old men and women. So, this guy connected with the girl via the signals she was sending across to random receivers. I picked the signal too ooh, but… (Clears Throat)…

They hooked up and became something I can’t really name. Maybe hook-ups, or boyfriend & girlfriend, or better still; friends with benefits, and the likes. You know how it is when one among a click of guys finds a girl and starts hanging out with her more often than he does with the guys? That was how it was with us when he found her. We carefully followed this supposed couple every step of the way until the very day the girl succumbed to the pressure of following him to our room.

We were all seated in a palm wine joint cooling off with fresh palm wine after having a meal of hot rice and stew for lunch from Mama Nte’s restaurant which also served as the said palm wine joint. It was good mehn… The girl walked in with the guy and joined us. From that time onward, the guy stopped speaking pidgin English. He communicated in English all through, and that was very unlike him. Wetin bring English join for where guys dey? But because of his newly found whatever, he suddenly became Wale Soyinka. I just hope he did well in the English exam that was supervised by the witch.

After random talks and uncontrollable laughter from too much palm wine, the guy took the girl by the hand and made for our room. It was about after 7pm by then. Knowing fully well that some unlikely event was going to play out on their arrival at that room, we stayed back to have some more palm wine and probably have some more hot rice and stew for dinner from Mama Nte’s place. We had sat there from afternoon till night, just gisting and sharking. Chei! This is the point where the late Lucky Dube of blessed memory would scream “I FEEL IREEEH!” and thereafter asks; “DO YOU FEEL IREH?” hahaha.

The hand of the clock hurriedly fell on after 9pm, and we had to be home before 10pm to avoid having to buy an N800 touch light for the vigilante guys as the penalty for being out late. We also supposed that whatever event played out in our room was long over. So we wrapped up and left. 

Getting close enough to the room, we saw candle lights and images moving uncoordinatedly. Apparently, that guy was still in there with that girl. What??? For how long??? So we started wondering why he would still be there with that girl, knowing fully well that we would be home before 10pm. And he wouldn’t be dumb enough to want to take the girl home when we return because it was late already.

More so, the girl’s place was a little bit far. If he tried to escort her home, he would surely be apprehended by the jobless vigilante guys who only generate revenue from harassing strangers they find walking the streets late at night. We almost got pissed off and nearly stormed into the house. But one guy suggested something weird. He said; 

“What if they are still “doing it?” It won’t be fair for us to just go there and kill their joy by spoiling their fun.” 

“What would you have us do?” another guy retorted.

“Let’s join the fun” he suggested.

Then I asked confusingly; “How?”

To be continued…

PHASE 8

There was brief suspenseful silence in the air, as everyone listened carefully to hear what exactly his idea of joining the fun would be. Just when we were getting tired of waiting to hear him speak, he broke the silence by saying; let’s tiptoe to the window of the room and listen for groans and moans produced by the little exercise that’s going on in there between those two. That will be fun; won’t it?

I and the guys looked at this guy as though he was the craziest of men to come up with such suggestion. Nevertheless, one guy consented by carelessly saying; “it’s not a bad idea after all.” All attention transferred to him, and then little by little, everyone consented and did as suggested.

We pulled off our shoes and tiptoed carefully to the window to listen to groans and moans produced from illegal samba. Who does that? We of course! But quite hilariously, our earnest expectation was cut off; for we drew near to the window and listened to hear nothing but friendly discussions and giggles at intervals for as long as 23 whole minutes. We were disappointed!

But just like politicians, we were hopeful that some dirty stuff was gonna play out soon enough. So we patiently waited by the window with bare feet on an infectious soil, not minding the hazards thereof. Our wait further extended to about 40 minutes, when suddenly, one of the inhabitants of that room who had a bike drove in crazily.

We sought for an occasion to relay the information to him and get him to kill the noise before the couple inside sensed intrusion and cancel whatever plans they were yet to carry out. But no one could. He drove in, and we scattered all over in an effort to hide and keep the couple from knowing that we had been there all along.

The bike guy reached the apartment and started screaming our names randomly as was his pattern. The guy inside hurriedly came out and informed him that we were still at Mama Nte’s place drinking palm wine. On hearing “palm wine,” he mounted his bike immediately and made for Mama Nte’s place to catch up with us before the fun was over. 

But then, he was back within 5 minutes disappointed, raging angry words at the guy in the room because he thought the guy was making a fool of him. The guy came out and explained to him again that he left us there, telling him to look around the place, assuring him that we were somewhere around. He obliged and went back to search for us.

It took some time without him returning again as we expected he would when he fails to find us anywhere. So we concluded he had gone somewhere else and won’t be back soon. Then we slowly came out of our hiding to continue listening. To our greatest surprise, we saw the guy and the girl inside preparing to go out, and we wondered why they suddenly wanted to leave.

It must be because of the bike guy, we concluded. So we went back to our hiding places. But as soon as the guy came out to the veranda, he stretched himself, stood tall, and screamed; “I want comot now oh. Mek una come enter inside oh.” JEEEZ!!! What the hell??? Did he know we were there all the while??? See casting oooooh!!!

To be continued.

PHASE 9

We thought we were the only ones aware of our presence there. Apparently, he knew all the while but acted ignorantly and let us stand out there for nearly an hour expecting to hear what could never be heard. Chai! Some boys get mind oh! We still maintained our hiding positions in an effort to force the impression that there was no one there, just in case his actions were based on mere suspicion. And most importantly, we didn’t want the girl to know that big boys like us could do such crap. To our greatest surprise, the guy screamed again with a louder tone of voice saying; “I SAY I WANT COMOT OH! MEK UNA COME ENTER INSIDE!” Chai! Omor see gobe!

It was one hell of humiliation for us. Nevertheless, we still remained in hiding until he and the girl left the apartment. We then made our way out of hiding and sat on the veranda, raging words like; “why him go talk that kind thing?” “Even if him know say we dey around, him no suppose talk am! For what?” We ranted and ranted and ranted, hoping that the guy will come back and meet us in angry mode, so we would unleash the dragon on him. 

You know what? The guy didn’t come home that night. He slept over at the girl’s place; either continuing there what he started in our room or actually starting it there if he had not started it in our room before we came back. But that guy is a bad guy! It’s hard to believe he didn’t do anything with the girl before we got back that night. But it appeared like he didn’t; judging from all that happened. Anyway, what’s the point? It was still gonna happen at long last. Like I said; he spent the night at the girl’s place; So………………..

The guy came back the next morning ooh; just smiling and feeling good. Chai! Bad guy don chop finish clean mouth. Amazingly, our rage towards him had subsided big time, and we couldn’t do any more than cheer him for a supposed job well done. Before long, sermons found its way out of some of our mouths, pointing out what a misdeed he had perpetrated the past night. Some supported the motion that the act was sinful and will attract some sort of consequences; the ultimate consequence being eternal damnation. Some others, however, opposed the motion. To prevent further arguments, we ended the motion in favor of no one; though still holding on to our various convictions.

We made our way to the stream after the argument to freshen up and get ready for the day’s paper. In no time, we were well seated, ready for the exams. It was a good one; better than all other papers. The examiners performed better than the others. And you know nah; such performances always hold happy endings for candidates. This very day’s performance held the happiest ending of all.

So, to celebrate our seeming success, we made way to Mama Nte’s place to eat, drink, and just enjoy ourselves. But then, everything that was done that day escalated to another level; probably inspired by the happy ending brought about by the overly apprecitated performances of the examiners for that day.

Over at Mama Nte’s place, the candidates divided themselves into groups and commenced celebrating in whatever manner appealed to their minds as the best ways to celebrate. Some ordered for excess chicken with which to fill their hungry stomachs. Some for palm wine with which to transcend to higher realms. Some other with cigarettes, beers and all what not.

I walked in and joined the group that consisted of my seven roommates, my bearded acquaintance, and one other rugged looking guy with stitches all over his face. I shook everyone and sat down. Then my eyes turned to the table in the middle of us and found various items and material that were meant to fuel our jubilation. On the table were RED LABEL, PALM WINE, CIGARETTES, & WEED. Jeez!!! My bearded acquaintance noticed my somewhat shocking reaction on setting eyes on those items and said to me with his croaky voice; MY MAN, AS YOU BE JESUSBOY SO EHN, ME I BE GOD’S SON. SIT DOWN! TODAY DON BE!

To be continued…

PHASE 10

Indeed, like they say; ON THE DAY THE GODS HAVE DESTINED FOR THE MONKEY TO DIE, ALL THE TREES IN THE FOREST BECOME SLIPERRY. I saw this coming. But I was confident I would elude it when it showed up. It finally showed up, and what did I do? I watched it all. I saw it all. Was in it all! A lot happened. Several shots were gulped! Fire was blazed! Spirits were high! Reasoning was gone! The demon of debauchery was present; I could tell.

Souls were threatened. I could see the smiles of doom on faces. Couldn’t imagine any less on mine. How are the mighty fallen! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. They say dreams come true. But again I say; I’ve got some dreams I don’t wanna see come true. I’m sure you understand better now. But what exactly can be done to stop them from coming true?

This was July 2016. But take a look at this poem from May 2014, inspired by events from 2013, titled; “HE” – Authored by Jezuzboi©.

He acted in wisdom & was despised by fools,
Regained his freedom, but restricted by rules,
Embarked on the mission, spreading good news in schools,
We're heirs of the kingdom, he kept telling that to the Jews.

Haha, in the face of danger he laughed!
He was a light, & in the hours of horror, he flashed!
In confidence of his stability, he dashed!
It was just a little error, & he crashed!

Tears, tears and endless tears wet his carpet,
All he meditates on now is John 11:35, 'Jesus Wept',
When his tears was exhausted, he slept,
It’s not quite certain if he really woke up in the depth.

Saw him in the future, but can't tell if he's living or dead,
He seemed okay, but not quite sure if he's rich or reached,
He sat in high places, but can't tell if he's cursed or blessed,
But one thing I noticed, he was constantly chased.

You feel it! Don’t you? Indeed! But then, you know how it is when the break of a moving car on top speed fails on a highway? That’s how it was that day. There was no stopping anybody! The jubilation continued, and only escalated from one point of insanity to the other! Then a very interesting discussion broke out in the middle of it all. One of the guys who had an issue with self-centeredness, professed his wish to hail from Eastern Nigeria, so he would be referred to, as an Igbo boy.

That statement got my bearded acquaintance pissed off, and he retaliated with harsh words instigated by his past encounter with the wanna-be Igbo boy; for the wanna-be Igbo boy had held back what could be supposed a “national cake” from my bearded acquaintance, leaving an impression of his overly apparent lack of generosity.

My bearded acquaintance initiated his scold in Pidgin English by asking; “how you go say you want be Igbo boy when ee be say you carry spare life for hand, come see your brother wey dey die, but you no gree give am the life wey you carry for hand? Instead, you come dey talk say house too hot, say you want use the life fan body. You come leave your brother mek him die go. Now you come sit down here talk say you for like be Igbo boy? How you go take be Igbo boy? Na so Igbo boys dey behave?”

The wanna-be Igbo boy was shocked, short of words, and embarrassed at the same time. All he could do was keep mute and assume a posture that showed him off as a monumental mockery. My bearded acquaintance continued his scold; which conveyed revealing info about the boys from the Eastern part of Nigeria; the Igbo boys. I was careful to note that these guys go the extra miles to make excess money, and don’t keep their brothers in the dark regarding the paths they trade to amass wealth for themselves.

I know you’ll now be thinking; “we already know nah. Is it not blood money?” But hey! Listen! This wasn’t the case of blood money. This was the case of digging out 2 to 4 pounds of one’s flesh to insert cocaine in it and fly through borders of different countries to make a delivery. It was a case of damaging one’s skin for a lifetime and exposing to the body to deadly infections in exchange for “the papers.”

If you never chop bitter kola without to squeeze face, you no fit try am! But these guys do! And guess what; they carry themselves along. You may think at this point that these guy’s craving for wealth has led them to undertake the worst practices ever. But you’re wrong. They do even more!

To be continued.

PHASE 11

He went ahead to fill him in on the diverse deadly ventures the Igbos delve into just to make wealth and in turn lead their brothers on. All these, he stated just reveal how unfit the wanna-be Igbo boy was, to be an Igbo boy. Well, there was silence on all ends, as the word-battered guy said nothing to oppose the motion. He was commendably mute! Guess it’s true what my bearded acquaintance said.

That whole one sided debate scenario was over in a snap of the finger, and jollification continued in earnest! But consequent upon the just concluded word-banter, more talks in that line came to mind. I won’t be wrong in supposing that the knock-about combination of palm wine, red label, cigarette, and weed, opened up the soul's gateway to the perception of uncanny riddles and mysteries so hard to decipher, as well as the announcement of the filthiest of deeds and secrets.

If you’ve ever come across the book of Ecclesiastes 1:8 in the bible, you’ll find there written that “ALL THINGS ARE FULL OF WEARINESS; NO MAN CAN UNDERSTAND IT. THE EYE IS NOT SATISFIED WITH SEEING, NEITHER IS THE EAR FILLED WITH HEARING.” Since the ear cannot be filled with hearing, I sat back and listened all the more. That’s all I could do in addition.

My bearded acquaintance shallowly enlightened us on the course of his rugged escapades thus far, which showed him off as the BADDEST guy he truly is; though he tried not to make it apparent at all. He succeeded in keeping that to himself right from the start. But there was certainly no way he could further keep it; especially with the services of the unreasonability of liquor having been employed beyond average measure.

If you can, travel back to the bible days and ask Lot’s daughters how they managed to get impregnated by their own father. Alcohol did the magic of course! So it isn’t strange for a man to tell his tale after sipping some liquor; is it? I gathered the following from my bearded acquaintance’s words;

It doesn’t hurt to pull a trigger,
It only hurts to take a bullet.

So if a shot is fired with the finger,
The victim must’ve had skeletons in his closet.

Blood stains get us bigger,
When conscience troubles, we sip liquor & forget.

Cuz we’ve become like a deadly sinner,
And so it’ll be till we kick the bucket.

Along the line, the little reasoning that managed to elude the influence of liquor spurred him into maintaining some degree of discretion and avoid selling himself out completely. That was where the curtains would have been drawn to the somewhat weird tales, and perhaps give way to a more cheery discussion.

Impressively, the guy who had played on our intelligence by letting us stand outside by the window, expecting to hear him act naughty with the girl in our room, spoke up and escalated everything to a whole new level. Seeing that my bearded acquaintance’s words showed him off as a rugged material, the guy who played on our intelligence made a statement that also showed him off as a worse material than my bearded acquaintance.

At that point, my bearded acquaintance leaped like a threatened lion, dropped his shot of red label, spat out the weed in his mouth, rose to his feet with apparent rage on his face, and asked the guy horribly; “YOU SAY YOU BE WETIN?” Whether out of naivety, or for the sake of being hilarious, or playing the clown, or better still; triggered by delusions of self-imposed thug profile, the guy once again opened his mouth and repeated himself as a challenge to my bearded acquaintance saying; “I SAY I BE BADDEST!!!”

My bearded acquaintance lost it! With immense rage, he indignantly rose to his feet, grabbed the bottle of the red label on the table with much drink in, took a good look at the self-proclaimed baddest guy’s head, lifted the bottle up aggressively, and ………

To be continued...

PHASE 12

He lifted the bottle up aggressively and gulped the drink directly from it, not minding the other people there who still had to drink from that same bottle. He was really pissed off by that guy’s utterances. Gulping the drink was to help keep him calm lest he loses it and gets violent. That notwithstanding, he didn’t let that statement go easily. He initiated talks that had to do with those who proclaim themselves as being the “BADDEST GUYS.” He brought it to the thin handsome guy’s notice that a lot of certified “BADDEST GUYS” he knew had gotten lost at some point and are still yet to be found till now.

My bearded acquaintance enlightened the thin handsome guy on the extent to which his proclamation of being the “BADDEST GUY” can get him, bringing to his notice that not all “BADDEST GUYS” dead bodies get buried in coffins. He told the thin handsome guy that he could murder him immediately and bury him right there because he dared to sit before him and proclaim himself to be the “BADDEST GUY” without taking into consideration what manner of the person the bearded guy was.

When the thin handsome guy noticed my bearded acquaintance’s displeasure at his proclamation, he immediately took back his words and began pleading for mercy. I remember the thin handsome guy making statements like; “no be like that, abeg. Na play I bin dey play. I no bad bro. I no bad at all.” It seemed like his humble plea masturbated my bearded acquaintance’s ego, as he flared up all the more and almost spilled blood. But everyone joined voices together and beseeched him to stay calm, which he did, and all was well.

When my bearded acquaintance had calmed down, he turned to me who had been silent the whole time and asked; “MY MAN, HOW FAR YOU?” Having gotten to understand him fully by reason of his utterances, I managed to lift my swollen and heavy eyelids to make eye contact with him, after which I replied with a cold croaky voice saying; “NO JOY!!!” My response excited him immensely, and he laughed out loudly, as he gave me a handshake which was accompanied by the words; “NASO!” Taking another look at me, he again said; “MY MAN, THIS EXAM GO FINISH NEXT WEEK. YOU GO WAKA GO YOU WAY, AND I GO WAKA GO MY WAY. BUT I GO LOCATE YOU! I PROMISE!”
I didn’t quite get what he was driving at. But in the euphoria of the moment, I simply him with the words; “NO SHAKING!!!” It was all over in a short while, and my bearded acquaintance went back to town while I and the guys went back to our room, making fun of the thin handsome guy over his little drama with my bearded acquaintance. In a couple of days, the exam was over, and we dispatched to our different cities of residence, as we eagerly awaited the result to be out. Talking about the result, was it going to be good or bad? After all these things, I just hoped it came out good. But sometimes, hope can be against hope.

To be continued…

PHASE 13

While waiting for our result, we somewhat cut communication with each other. But on that faithful day, a call came into my phone from a strange number and picked.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“My Man,” the guy on the other end uttered. At once, I sensed that voice. It was my bearded acquaintance.

“Eeeeehhhh... What’s up mehn?” I cheered…

“I dey,” he replied. He then said; “I bin tell you say I go locate you. I dey your town now. I dey observe you from my side mirror. Just waka dey come. You go see one tinted glass black Toyota spider. Open the door and enter.”

I searched around for the car he described and my eyes soon met it right in front of me. Mehn! My heart skipped somewhat. I thought he was joking when he said he was going to locate me. I then knew he was serious about it. What I, however, couldn’t understand was why he went through the stress of locating me. It’s not like I owed him money.

I hopped into the car which had two other rugged-looking guys in it. We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. My bearded acquaintance kick-started the car and drove towards an unknown destination. Well, it was too late to ask questions. Even though my heart skipped severally and I imagined the possibility of disappearing from the midst of them, I managed to keep cool and act like I had no fears whatsoever!!!

Having driven a long distance away from my city, he stopped by a palm wine joint in the middle of nowhere to have a drink. I silently followed them every step of the way, concealing my fears. Having sensed that I was in no position to object to any offer, I quickly consented when I was asked to be offered some fresh palm wine. We had a lot to drink. All the while, I was thinking of possible strategies to get myself out of that situation. He was all the while grinning and smiling at me, telling me he was going to take me from the palm wine joint to a place where I’d be made a COMPLETE MAN.

I then understood what he was driving at. But there were no means of escape at that point. I couldn’t decline to go further with them because that wouldn’t yield any result. Neither could I bail out with flimsy excuses. I resorted to was filling my system with excess palm wine, reminiscing about the good old days and anticipating the soon-coming BLOODY FUTURE!!! Soon enough, everything began seeming like shadows to me. I WAS HIGH!!!

In that drunken state, I could hear him send the other two rugged-looking guys along, telling them to go put things in place for my arrival. It was going to be an initiation into the THUG KINGDOM; a welcoming into the PARADISE OF GANGSTERS!!! We had grown from being pals to mates, and from mates to dogs. It was now time to move from being dogs to a little more like brothers in the brotherhood. But that was the day it all ended. That was the happy day of sadness. That was the day we got ambushed and he got SHOT!!!

Having helped me into the car since my feet couldn’t carry me anymore, he closed the door and made to the driver’s seat. But on his way to the driver’s seat, some shadows invaded the palm wine joint dressed in black. He was obviously frightened by their invasion. Looking out from the front seat of the car, I could see those shadows advancing towards him while he appeared to have run short of what to do. They then raised their revolvers at him and simultaneously recited the following lines;

FROM DUST YOU CAME. AND TO DUST SHALL YOU RETURN. HE THAT SENDS MEN BEYOND SHALL ALSO BE SENT BEYOND. YOUR DAY HAS COME. HAVE A SAVE JOURNEY HOME. AND SEND OUR REGARDS TO THE UNDERTAKERS.

To be continued…

PHASE 14

After that simultaneous recitation, they pulled their triggers and dumped all the bullets in my bearded acquaintance’s chest. My courage failed on hearing the sound of many triggers pulled simultaneously and I hid in the car in fear. In my drunken state, I could see my bearded acquaintance fall to the ground. One of the guys who shot him walked closer to confirm if he was dead. He confirmed and told the others. I thought they would come and check the car out. But they didn’t. They left after they confirmed my bearded acquaintance dead. Out of so much fear, I lost consciousness and passed out in the car.

I don’t know how many hours I passed out for. But when I woke up, the influence of the palm wine was gone. I was normal again. I quickly recalled the events that played out before I passed out. Then I went out of the car to check out my bearded acquaintance’s body. To my greatest surprise, it wasn’t there. I was shocked. I saw him fall after being shot. How come his body wasn’t there?

Looking around, I couldn’t decipher what part of town I was. I then began tiptoeing to an area I would find a cab that would take me back to my town. As I got closer to the tarred road, I heard voices deliberating on random matters. I dust myself up and walked towards the crowd indifferently. I heard them talk about a group of people that walked into the palm wine joint to fire gunshots.

I also heard them talk about a certain guy who was soaked in blood. They said the blooded guy found his way to the bridge, jumped into the river and never came out again. I suspected it was my bearded acquaintance. Maybe he survived the gunshot. But I didn’t understand the part where he jumped into the river and never came out. Was he trying to finish up the deadly group’s work by drowning himself after having allegedly survived such gunshots?

Again, I head the attendant who sold us palm wine at the joint saying there was a guy that was left behind in the car. Damn it!!! That was me!!! Because of fear, those people couldn’t go to the palm wine joint to see things for themselves. Knowing that the palm wine girl knows about my survival, I sought for a means to leave that environment before the police showed up and I was pointed to them as one of the BOYS IN BLACK.

I slowly walked to a cyclist and asked if he would take me to town. He complained about the distance and I offered him an amount of money he could resist. Immediately, he consented, kick-started his bike and asked me to hop on. I did, and he moved. As soon as he drove out of the crowd, all attention turned to us. While everyone else just saw us as those who had heard enough of the gist and were leaving the premises for good, the palm wine attendant saw and noticed me. She then raised her hand and pointed at me.

But before she could inform them that I was the survivor in the car, the cyclist that carried me had zoomed off and was soon out of sight. Soon enough, we were in town. I paid him off and took another cyclist to my main residence. As soon as I got to my room, I fell on my bed like a lump of wood, faced the ceiling and flashed back on all that had happened. I remembered having that dream, and it just came true.

In addition to my dreams of always traveling back in time, I also used to dream about someone getting shot right beside me. The dreams came to pass. Firstly, my dream of always traveling back in time the days when I was still fresh out of high school manifested when I got back to high school to enroll for O’level Exams. Secondly, my dream of having a guy shot right next to me manifested when my bearded acquaintance was taken out before me by a deadly group of guys.

For the last time, I’ve got some dreams I don’t want to see come true. But I’ve learned I can’t keep them from coming true. Right now, I’m dreadfully awaiting the manifestation of a host of the other dreams I’ve had over the years. I wish I can tell you about the dreams. But I’ll rather wait until they manifest; then I’ll write about it. I still can’t believe my guy was SHOT!!!


THE END…